


Contact Points

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Data (Star Trek)'s Emotion Chip, Eventual Communication, F/M, Guilt, Mild Sexual Content, Movie: Star Trek: First Contact (1996), The Borg, Trauma Recovery, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, again as we see in canon, and hes not really equipped to process them, and its in the movie, because they talk about it, but only what we specifically see in canon, canon compliant except tasha is alive, data has a lot of complicated feelings about what the borg queen did to him, discussions of sexual assualt, i put the noncon tag not because we see it onscreen but just in case, references to body modification, theyre not perfect but they're trying, trauma response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23930491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: After the Borg, Data isn't feeling much of anything.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Contact Points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lasernahrwal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasernahrwal/gifts).



> I tried to be thorough with the tags, but please let me know if I missed anything. I debated if this needed a rating bump to explicit; let me know if you think that would be better. This is for lasernahrwal, who asked if I'd do a fic of Data recovering from the trauma he experiences in First Contact. I'm not sure this was exactly what you had in mind. The ending is hopeful, but Data still has a lot of healing left to do. I'm honestly still not happy with it came out, but I hope you like it.
> 
> If anyone else ever has datasha prompts, I don't take them on AO3, but I do take them on my tumblr: [marveliciousfanace](https://marveliciousfanace.tumblr.com/) or you can just stop by to chat!

_You are in chaos. Contradiction._

_You haven’t been properly…stimulated yet._

_How long has it been?_

_Resistance is futile._

“Data!”

Data’s eyes jerked open, and he inhaled sharply, clutching at his chest as if that would somehow aid the airflow to his lungs. He panted, trying to get his bearings. He was not strapped to a table, was not plugged into a Borg regeneration module. He was in a bed. His bed. Beside him, Tasha rubbed his arm. Her expression betrayed worry.

Slowly, he sat up, forcing himself to take deep breaths. It triggered the correct response; his artificial heartrate slowed, activating his cooling systems. His hands shook, and he balled them into fists to still them.

“Are you alright?” Tasha asked. Her voice was soft, careful.

Data swallowed hard. “I…appear to be malfunctioning.”

“I can’t remember the last time you had a nightmare like that.”

He did not meet her gaze. “This did not feel like a nightmare.” He had experienced a few, early on when his dream program had activated. None compared.

She rested her chin on his shoulder. Her hand remained on his arm, still stroking, and Data was not supposed to be capable of nausea when the emotion chip was deactivated, but his stomach churned anyway, oblivious of its malfunction. He pulled away from the touch.

“Data?”

“I require a moment. Alone. Excuse me.”

He felt her gaze on his back all the way to the bathroom. He locked the door, and then sat on the edge of the bathtub, his fingers gripping the surface so hard that microfractures split beneath his hands. He dropped his head to his chest and tried to breath regularly.

His sleep shirt hung, soft and loose, against the bioplast of his skin. Data rolled it up, one methodical fold after the other, until his forearm was bared. He examined it, twisting to get all angles, imperfect flecks of gold catching and glinting in the light. He ran his fingers along it, but there was no seam, just perfectly sealed synthetic skin. It prickled in the chill emanating off the tile, and he shuddered.

It was not the same.

Tasha knocked, the motion gentle. “Data? Baby? You okay?”

“I am func…” He closed his eyes. “I am fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

It made little sense to shake his head, knowing she couldn’t see, but he did it anyway. He clutched his arm, fingernails digging in, leaving crescents that stung, but not enough, not in the right way.

“I will be out shortly,” he said. “You should prepare for your shift.”

***

There was a moment, between the Borg drone grabbing his ankles, and the door trapping him on the wrong side, that Data was able to make a decision. Even when he didn’t experience time as a fixed constant, his seconds were still longer than anyone else’s, from an internal perspective. He had time to lock down a few functions. The encryption codes. _Enterprise_ security protocols. And some memories.

Data knew what the Borg did. He had helped save his captain from them once. And there were some memories he would not risk losing to assimilation. Some memories that the Borg did not deserve to see.

He set the program to a specific visual override and said a silent apology to Tasha. She would not hear it, of course, but in a moment he would not care. That made it vital.

***

The bridge was subdued. History was safe, but that didn’t make the casualty list easier to bear. They were running on a partial compliment, at least until they reached the nearest starbase for repairs, and it was taking its toll. Data could see it in the bags under his humanoid crewmates’ eyes, and in the bow of Riker’s head. He saw it in the captain, staring out the viewscreen, as if the stars held answers to questions he couldn’t ask aloud.

For once, Data kept silent. Surely, the last thing anyone wanted was for him to speak.

Deanna caught him outside the turbolift, on the tail end of his break before the nightshift. “Commander, may I have a word with you?”

He nodded, and she stepped into the turbolift after him. As it began to move, she said, “Tasha tells me you haven’t been sleeping.”

It didn’t surprise him that Tasha had told her, and he did not begrudge her for it. “I do not require sleep,” he said.

“She also said you were having nightmares. Does that have anything to do with it?”

Data hesitated. He met Deanna’s eyes. “I appreciate the concern, counselor, but it is not necessary. I am merely attempting to serve the ship to the best of my abilities.”

Deanna didn’t look convinced. She folded her arms. “Data, when you first activated the emotion chip, you asked me to be your guide. To help you when the things you were feeling were difficult to cope with. Let me help you now.”

The turbolift doors opened. Data stepped through and turned back. “I do not need help, counselor. I am not feeling anything.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the doors shut before she could. Data waited, contemplating whether they would open again, but they did not. So he turned, relieved Commander Riker, and settled in for the night shift to begin.

***

Tasha moaned when Data slid inside her, her legs wrapped around his hips, one hand clutching at the back of his neck. Her head was tipped back against the pillows, her skin flushed bright pink. It was a brilliant sight.

Data closed his eyes. He focused on the contact between them, on her fingers wrapped in his hair and her legs smooth and warm where they shifted against his side. His cock, buried in her tight heat, her body welcoming him in. He thrust, and she cried out, so he did it again, responding to her desire.

“I needed that,” she murmured after the second round, toying lazily with a few strands of his hair. Her skin was slick with sweat, still flushed from the exertion.

_How long has it been?_

_Eight years, seven months, sixteen days, one minute, twenty-two…_

_Far too long._

Tasha’s hand snaked down his front, giving him a gentle pump. He deactivated the function and moved her hand away. “I do not require that tonight.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is everything alight?”

“It is. I am just…not in the mood.”

She nodded, a slow motion, and Data wasn’t sure if she believed him. She withdrew, sitting up and rooting for her clothes while he watched. She had a few scattered freckles across her shoulders. He had memorized every one. Like the stars, they looked far away.

***

“Why do I feel like you’ve been avoiding me?” Picard asked. The ready room had been put to rights at some point, or perhaps it had never been affected at all. There was no sign in the room that indicated anything tragic had just happened. That the ship had nearly been lost.

Data sat, opposite the captain at his desk, and folded his hands in his lap. “I do not know, sir.” He looked to the fish tank, trying to find the fish, hiding behind the tangle of rocks and plants, and then thought better of the action. He met the captain’s eyes again. “Have I not been performing my duties sufficiently?”

Picard’s smile was kind, and almost knowing. “You’ve been performing admirably, Mr. Data, particularly considering the circumstances.”

“The circumstances, sir?”

“I saw what the Borg queen did to you. Coming back from that…it can’t have been easy.” There was an unspoken statement beneath the words. The statement that Picard understood.

Data tilted his head. “I have found no difficulty, Captain. Geordi was able to repair my physical features, and there was no damage done to my positronic net.”

Picard hesitated. He laced his fingers together. “Sometimes, Mr. Data, the…damage comes not from any physical thing to fix, but from our experiences. The way we feel about them.”

“I have deactivated the emotion chip,” Data told him. “I do not feel anything about my experience.”

Picard blinked. A small frown crossed his face. “Well. I suppose that would be true.”

“Is there anything else you needed from me, sir?”

“What? Oh. No.” Picard shook his head. “You’re dismissed. But please, if you feel the need, speak to myself or Counselor Troi. We are here for you.”

“I will.” Data stood. At the door, he paused and turned back. “You did not, Captain.”

Picard’s frown deepened. “Did not what?”

“See what the Borg queen did to me. You believe you understand, but you do not.”

Data did not wait for him to respond. He stepped back onto the bridge, and let the doors shut behind him.

***

_Are you familiar with physical forms of pleasure?_

_If you are referring to sexuality…I am…fully functional._

***

“It’ll be nice to have some time off,” Tasha called to him from the bathroom. He watched her from the doorframe as she spat into the sink, rinsing her toothbrush under the flow of water. “I think we all could use a little shore leave after everything.”

“The crew does appear to be tired after their ordeal.”

Tasha hooked her fingers into the front of his uniform, pulling him to her. “What about you?” she murmured, tilting her chin up to look at him. “Are you tired?”

He shook his head. “I do not require-“

“I know, baby. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need a rest.”

Rather than respond, Data pushed her back, gently, and Tasha let out a soft sound of suprise as he lifted her up, depositing her on the lip of the sink. She wrapped herself around him reflexively and tilted her head when he kissed her.

In the mirror, Data watched himself. One yellow eye stared back. For a moment, as Tasha’s hands crept up under his shirt, questing, Data blinked, and pretended he saw blue.

***

For a human, zero point six eight seconds was nothing at all. A blink. Half a breath. A handful of heartbeats. A fragment of a thought.

Data had always been capable of lying. His programming allowed it, if he thought it would protect people. Over the years, this definition had been flexible. But Data had not lied to Captain Picard in that moment. To an android, zero point six eight seconds was an eternity.

***

Data resolutely did not flinch when a hand came down on his shoulder, the motion unexpected and out of his field of vision. “Hey,” Geordi said. “Think you could stop by Engineering later? I want to run a diagnostic.”

Data’s chest tightened. He turned. “On what?”

“The warp core’s still behaving a little badly since…whatever it was the Borg did to it. I could use your help tracking down the problem.”

“I was not truly integrated into the Borg collective consciousness. I do not know the extent of the modifications they made.”

Geordi laughed. “No, but you’re a damn good engineer when you want to be. I’ll bet between the two of us, we can work it out before we even hit space dock.”

Data swallowed, returning his eyes to his console. “I do not currently have the time. Perhaps some of your staff can assist you.”

Geordi’s face fell. “Data. Most of my staff was in Engineering. There aren’t exactly a lot of hands left on deck.”

Data closed his eyes. In the darkness, he could hear echoes. Screams. When he opened them again, he said, “I will speak to the captain. If he can spare me-“

“I already asked. We’re good to go.”

“Very well.” Reluctantly, Data stood, and followed his friend off the bridge.

***

_You’re becoming more human all the time. Now you’re learning how to lie._

***

Data’s stomach roiled as he stepped into Engineering. The warp core glowed, first blue, then red and black, then back again. He averted his eyes, keying into the control panel that Geordi indicated, his fingers flying as he instructed the computer on what to do. In the background, green lights blinked.

_If it means nothing to you, why protect it?_

He grit his teeth. “Initial sensor sweeps indicate no malfunctions.”

Geordi clicked his tongue. “Looks like we’re going to have to go in manually.”

There was a table in the middle of the room. Data’s wrists were aching. He shook his head. “We may be able to…to locate the problem…by…”

Cold breath against his skin. Sharp instruments he could barely feel, and then light touches that felt like _everything_. Data’s breath shortened. He curled his fingers into fists.

_Go ahead, Data. We won’t stop you. Do it._

Coolant swirled around his ankles, gushing, and Data sucked in a cry as it started to burn at his arm, his face, skin melting away like flashpaper even as the agony lingered behind. He choked, gagging, gasping for air, short inhales that pulled vapor like smoke into his artificial lungs, and there were hands pulling at him, voices ringing, crying out, and restraints that bound him, holding him down, dragging him into the fire.

Data blinked. No fire. No coolant. He was on the floor, staring up into the faces of Tasha and two other security officers pinning him down. Across the room, another officer helped Geordi up, calling for a medic, checking for injuries where he’d struck the railing when he’d been thrown. Tasha’s eyes were wide. Terrified. Data opened his mouth, but didn’t have an answer.

When asked what happened, Data attributed it to a temporary malfunction. The Borg had physically drilled into his mind; it was highly possible they had impacted more programs than he had been aware of. He ran the self-diagnostics and came up empty. Just a glitch.

“Is Geordi pressing charges?” he asked, and Tasha stared at him.

“Your best friend isn’t about to throw you in the brig,” she said. She hesitated. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

Data looked away. “Will he be alright?”

“You didn’t throw him that hard. There won’t even be a bruise by the time the doctor’s done with him.”

Data nodded, and then startled when he felt a hand touch his. “Hey,” Tasha said. “Are we going to talk about this?”

Data inclined his head. “There is nothing to say.”

***

She had kissed him. That was indisputable fact. And he had closed his eyes and kissed her back, had allowed her hand to touch him.

Data could say it had been for the mission. A way to earn her trust. But that was not the entire truth.

He had wanted it. He had liked it. And part of him had wanted her to do it again.

***

Tasha put a hand on Data’s chest, stopping his embrace short. “Nuh-uh. Not this time.”

He stepped back and frowned, tilting his head. “I do not understand.”

Tasha crossed her arms. Somehow, the replacement of her security uniform with a long, flowing blue tunic made the motion look sharper, not softer. She’d gotten the outfit for this shore leave. A little bungalow on Risa, tucked away along the beach, made for privacy and comfort. The horizon was lit orange and red, blending into purple where the sun met the sea, and the night birds were already beginning to sing. It was peaceful. Serene.

“You’re thinking about it again,” Tasha said. “Did you think I couldn’t tell?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

Tasha sighed. She leaned forward over the railing, facing the ocean. Waves crashed against the shore, swept out again with the tide. “I thought, if I gave you time, you’d talk to me about it.” She turned. “I’ve told you everything about me. You know what I’ve been through. Don’t I deserve the same?”

Data hung his head. “Tasha…”

Tasha stepped forward, running her hands down Data’s arms. “Do you think I don’t know when someone is using sex to cover up for something else? I know what you feel like, baby. And the last few times you’ve touched me…it hasn’t been you. So we’re not doing it again. Not until you talk to me.”

The logical thing to do would be to tell her. They’d had seven years, two months, and twenty-four days of trust building between them. More, if Data included time before their relationship. Tasha would understand. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

“I will be inside,” he said.

She didn’t follow him in. She stayed on the porch. But Data did not look back, and so he could not have said if she was still watching him or looking at the sea.

***

While the Borg had worked on him, Data had still been aware that the ship was under attack. He knew his crewmates were being assimilated, that it was possibly happening even just beyond his view. He had heard it, the sounds of drilling and sparking metal and human voices calling out for help.

He should have tried to escape sooner. He should have followed through. Maybe lives could have been saved.

But he had clutched the given flesh, had cradled it in his hand. And when she had touched him, had offered him more, for zero point six eight seconds Data had wanted to stay. Her hand had been cold, and her lips colder, but it had been the first intimate touch that Data had felt in almost nine years. The first he could remember. And it had felt so good.

He found a way to save the ship. To trick the Borg from the inside. But he was not certain that had been his only motive to remain where he was. It was impossible to know.

Or perhaps it was possible. But Data wasn’t ready to dwell on it long enough to tell.

***

Tasha slid under the covers behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest. She pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades, an apology that she should not have felt the need to give. “You’re in bed,” she murmured.

“Does that please you?”

“That’s not the question you should be asking.”

She rested her forehead against his neck. Data felt her breath against his shoulders. “What question are you referring to?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Tasha admitted. She sighed. “I know something isn’t working, and I feel helpless because I can’t fix it.”

“I am sorry.”

“Are you?” Her voice wasn’t angry, wasn’t accusing. She sounded tired.

“Relationships are difficult. Several people advised you-“

“This isn’t about you being an android, Data. It isn’t about what you do or don’t feel.”

“It is not?”

“No.” Tasha pressed another kiss to his skin, through the thin layer of fabric that separated them. Her lips were warm. There was a dampness that might have been the sea air or might have been tears. Data did not look back to see. “Am I enough for you, Data?”

“Tasha-“

“Because I’ve been thinking about it and I can’t come up with anything else. You won’t talk to anyone, least of all me. I don’t know what she did to you, but-“

Data turned, meeting Tasha’s eyes. He clutched her hands, and he had to lighten his grip to keep from bruising her. She was fragile, more so than him. At least, in this way she was. “I love you,” he said fiercely. “I do not want that fact to be in dispute.”

They were tears, he confirmed, and Tasha blinked them back. Where she might have looked defiant, in the darkness of the night, she just looked sad. “I know,” she said. “But that’s not always enough.”

“I would like it to be.”

“Me too.” She wet her lips, looking down at their joined hands, and then back up at him. “Data…whatever happened, I still love you.”

He stared at her. “How can you know?”

She squeezed his hands. “Because I know you.”

There was no duplicity behind her eyes. Data lowered his gaze.

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I know Deanna would be willing. Or the captain.”

“The captain requires faith in his second officer,” Data said. “And I do not need to speak to a counselor.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not…feeling.”

Tasha tilted her head. It spread her blonde hair out across the pillows like a halo. “I think you are,” she murmured. “That’s one of the reasons humans go to counselors, you know. It’s why I went.”

Data frowned. “I do not follow.”

“Sometimes humans go to counselors because they’re feeling too many things,” Tasha told him. “And sometimes we go because we aren’t feeling enough. Sometimes, when something bad happens, we just go numb. And the counselor helps us to feel things again.”

“I have turned off my emotion chip. It is not the same.”

“I think it is.” Tasha knocked her forehead gently against his, brushing their noses together. “I think you turned it off because not feeling is easier. I’ve been there, I know.”

He did not wish to dispute it. “How did you…get through it?”

She smiled, and stroked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I stopped fighting it. I stopped pretending that everything was fine, that I was okay. I let myself feel the hurt. And I let people help me through it.”

“You are speaking of me.”

“Well. I can’t give you all the credit. I needed an entire team of counselors to set me straight.” She laughed, and it was soft, but it was sweet. “But you helped. You really helped. You were there when I needed you. And that counts for a lot.”

Data nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I believe so.” Hesitantly, he cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep, Tasha.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased. She closed her eyes, but she was still smiling. Her hand clutched at his. “You joining me?”

Data hesitated. “I will stay.” It was a beginning, the only promise he could make.

She understood. “That’s enough. For now.”

***

In the aftermath, when Data had walked onto the bridge, it had not mattered that the battle had been won. That the Borg queen was dead and first contact was saved. Data had felt the staring, eyes lingering on the exposed metal where his skin had burned away, gazes averted when he had looked to meet them. A wave of shame had swept through his body, compounded by guilt like a lead weight in his stomach. They knew. They saw his weakness. It was etched across what was left of his face. He was a machine. A machine that had almost been broken. A machine that, perhaps, had been damaged beyond repair.

He turned off the emotion chip. It dulled the feeling, but it did not take it away.

***

Sunlight streamed through the windows when Data returned to the bedroom, a tray balanced in his hands. A lump was curled up under the teal comforter, and Data set the tray down, throwing back the matching curtains to let the rest of the light in. He closed his eyes when the beams brushed against his cheek. He could feel the warmth, inside and out.

He turned back to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, and gently set his hand atop the pile of blankets. “Tasha. Wake up.”

The reply was muffled, colored by sleep. “’s my vacation.”

“I have brought you breakfast.”

A pause, followed by a shuffle and a blue eye peering out from a sudden gap in the blanket. “Breakfast?”

“Strawberry pancakes. I replicated the ingredients, but I combined them myself.” It was her favorite, and although Data could not distinguish between replicated food and handmade recipes, save that a replicator was more precise, Tasha insisted the latter was always better.

She considered the offering. “Is there whipped cream?”

“Naturally.”

A hand emerged from the lump, making a grabbing gesture, and Data delivered the food without resistance. Tasha shook the blankets off and sat upright, plate in her lap. Her hair stuck up in all directions. It was endearing. It would be a fond memory.

She speared a piece of pancake with a fork, moaning in appreciation at the first bite. She pointed the utensil at him. “Are you trying to make up with me? Because it’s working.”

“I do owe you an apology,” Data acknowledged, “but that is not the sole reason for the gesture.”

Tasha chewed, then swallowed. She set the fork aside. “That sounds like a serious voice.”

“I was not aware I had any other.”

She fought a smile, and Data offered a small one of his own. He wondered if it looked sad. He looked down at the bedspread. “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For resisting your attempts to communicate with me. You were correct. I am not fine.”

Tasha’s face fell. Her expression turned solemn. “I know.”

“There were many factors as to why I chose not to share my…feelings regarding our last mission. Not just with you, but with anyone. Myself included. However, all of those reasons can be reduced to the same thing. Fear.”

“You were afraid?”

“I am still afraid.” Data avoided her eyes. “Afraid that I am not the person I would like to be, the person others believe I am. I am afraid of what I did, what I was capable of doing. And I am afraid that you will not be able to forgive me when I tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I believe I do.” Data steeled himself, and lifted his gaze. The phrase ‘stomach in knots’ felt most appropriate. “I will…also be speaking to the counselor. When we return to the _Enterprise_. But this has been adversely affecting our relationship, and you deserve an explanation.”

Tasha nodded. “Okay.” She tucked her legs in, resting her arms on them, waiting.

Data hesitated. He had spent half the night working out the best way to begin, what order to address things in. It had not been fruitful; he had shied away from the memories on instinct, from the shame and guilt that came with them. It made beginning difficult.

But not impossible.

“I…believe the best way to preface this is with an…admission. It may…make it easier to understand some of my motivations.”

“Sure.”

Data swallowed. “When the Borg first captured me, I made a decision. It is…perhaps not a flattering one, but I felt it appropriate at the time.” He gripped his hands, folding them together tightly. “You are aware that I am capable of blocking access to certain of my functions?”

“Yes.”

“Including memories.”

Tasha blinked. “Yes?”

Data nodded. He looked down. “In addition to ensuring that sensitive tactical information could not be revealed, I…thought it would be best if I suppressed my memories of you. Of our relationship.”

“What?” Tasha stared at him. “Why?”

“Sentiment. I did not want the Borg seeing those memories. I wished for them to remain private. I coded them to unlock when I saw you again, with stipulations against activation if you were assimilated. I…hoped I would remember them again. But I thought it best at the time.”

“That’s a hell of an assumption,” Tasha said. She poked at her pancakes with the fork, making lines in the whipped cream.

“It bothers you.”

“I don’t know. It’s…sweet in one way. But in another…” She sighed. “It…scares me. That you can do that. That you can, that you _did_ , choose to forget about us.”

“In hindsight…I am not certain it was the right choice. It was…instinct.”

Tasha leaned into him. “That’s very human. Trying to protect something you love.”

He looked away. “Perhaps too human, given the results.”

Her fork stilled. “What happened?”

“It is…complicated.”

“Take your time.”

Data studied the floor. “If it had simply been an attempt to interrogate me, to cause me harm, I do not think I would have been affected as I am now. It was…not preferable, to see Engineering under Borg control, nor did I enjoy being restrained in that context. But, all things considered, drill bits in my skull are not particularly distressing. I was able to mute my pain sensors. I did not feel it.”

“But you did feel something.”

He closed his eyes. “I am…ashamed.”

“Of what?”

“The Borg queen…attempted to engage me. I am ashamed of my response.”

Tasha didn’t prompt him again. He could feel her eyes, even as she stabbed at the pancakes again. It seemed to take her a great effort to swallow. Data understood the feeling.

“She reactivated my emotion chip. I…did not want her too. I was…afraid. At first. It was…a violation. I felt I no longer had control.” His eyes crept across the bedspread to Tasha, who had gone very still. He did not linger on the thought. Tasha had more than enough experience feeling as though her body was out of her control.

Instead, he murmured, “The queen was able to offer me something I had never experienced.”

He had not thought it possible for Tasha to tense further, but she did. Her body practically vibrated beside him, but Data did not reach out. He did not deserve it.

“She was able to remove a portion of my bioplast, to graft organic skin into my circuitry instead.” He swallowed, closing his eyes at the memory. “I had never…I was not prepared for what the sensation did to me. It was…”

Tasha had carved a gash into the pancakes, filling slowly with leaking strawberry syrup. “It was what?”

“It is…crude, but the only word I can use to describe the feeling was…orgasmic.”

He had anticipated her surprise at the admission, but there was none. Instead, there was a void. She stared down at the plate, and her voice was flat when she responded. “That good, huh?”

“Tasha.”

“No, it’s…” She shook her head. “I’m being stupid.”

“You are upset.”

“It’s stupid!”

“Tasha-“

She shook her head, throwing the fork down again and running her fingers back through her hair. It neatened the strands, but not by much. Her voice was shaky when she said, “It’s fucked up. A good girlfriend would hear their boyfriend say he got assaulted and give a shit on his behalf. A good girlfriend wouldn’t be fucking jealous.”

Data blinked, eyes going wide. “Tasha…it was not an assault.”

“You’re saying she…she _mutilated_ you, and then touched you without your consent, and it _wasn’t_ an assault?”

Data hesitated. “I…became aroused. Then, and later. When she…” He swallowed. “When she kissed me. The physical stimulus…” He took a breath, searching for the words. “In my mind, it had been so long since anyone had touched me. The sensation had never been so intense. My…my positronic net was not designed to handle so much feeling. Touching skin…not bioplast but real, organic skin…I wanted it. It felt good, and I wanted more.”

When Data chanced a look at her, Tasha’s head was down and her shoulders were up. She was deathly still. He whispered, “Even pain was pleasurable in a way. Being injured, feeling the flesh tear and bleed…it was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I considered…for a moment, I considered what it would be like to stay. To be capable of feeling like that, forever.”

“How long?”

Tasha’s voice was so soft he almost missed it. It shook slightly. “Zero point six eight seconds,” he said.

“An eternity.”

He looked down. “For me.”

“Have you ever felt like that with me?”

“Tasha-“

She waved him off. “Ignore me.” She cradled her head in her hands. “God, I’m sorry.”

“You do not need to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. You’re telling me…you’re telling me about some awful shit, and I’m trying to make it about me. I’m sorry.”

Data reached out for her. He couldn’t stop himself. But Tasha flinched when his hand touched her knee, and he withdrew it. “I attempted to escape. She…the queen told me I should tear the skin off, but I was weak. I could not…emotionally, I could not lose it. It was precious to me. And she…she used my weakness to press her advantage.”

“She kissed you.”

“Yes.”

“And she touched you.”

He nodded.

“Where?”

He looked to his lap automatically, fingers tightening on his thigh. Tasha nodded. She brushed at her eyes. “Okay. Okay. And you didn’t have any memories. You didn’t remember me touching you. It had been a long time for you, since you’d been with anyone like that.”

“I only recalled one encounter. The one…”

“The one we don’t talk about.” She didn’t need to clarify further.

He nodded again. “Perhaps, had I not made my initial decision, I would not have been tempted. I would not have been…aroused.” His throat tightened. “I do not know.”

“You said it felt good, baby. And she had your emotion chip on. You couldn’t exactly control it.”

Tasha’s voice was level again, but her expression was still closed. Still, she had a point, and Data said, “That is true.”

“Just because you liked it didn’t mean you wanted it. Just because…just because you responded physically didn’t mean it was consensual.”

Data studied her. Tasha’s shoulders quivered, just faintly, and the guilt lanced into his stomach again. He was hurting her. Carefully, he said, “I do not know that it matters.”

“It matters!” Tasha insisted, jerking her head up to meet his eyes. “Data, it _matters_. She made you…she made you feel good, and you feel guilty. Because you didn’t want her to, you wouldn’t have asked her to, but in the moment you liked it, and after you felt guilty. Baby, that’s assault. And that’s not your fault.”

“I…would like to believe that.” But Data didn’t know if he did. Tasha was right; he had not wanted the Borg queen’s advances. But he had not fought her when she’d touched him. It may have been partly for the mission, but that didn’t cover all of it. The feelings twisted up inside him, turning his stomach, and he forced them away again.

He shook his head. “I do not…I do not wish to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Tasha nodded swiftly, her head bobbing. She reached out, hesitated, and then set her hand on his, squeezing gently. “We can leave it.”

“She gave me blue eyes.”

Tasha blinked, but Data stared at the curtains, out past them to the sea. “It is…at that point I was playing a role, trying to find a way to save the ship. But she gave me blue eyes.” He touched his cheek, a phantom sensation, like the echo of skin. “My…father had blue eyes. I suppose I always thought…” He looked back to her. “We were under attack. My…friends, my shipmates…they were being assimilated right in front of me. And I watched. And I did nothing. I should have done _something._ ”

“You saved the captain.”

It wasn’t enough. “I made him believe that I had betrayed him.”

Tasha opened her mouth and then closed it again. The sunlight was still streaming into the room, but Data shuddered. He wrapped his arms around himself. “If I had not been pretending, I could have taken over the _Enterprise_. I could have destroyed Cochrane’s ship, and I would have let my captain become a Borg drone, even knowing what that fate meant to him. Even knowing that for him, it would have been less merciful than death.”

“But you were pretending, though.”

“But if I were not.” Data blinked. He swallowed. “The…agony of having my skin burn away, the skin she gave me, was nothing compared to walking back onto the bridge without it. Seeing everyone looking at me and knowing that they must have known. That I was very nearly a traitor. That I had let so many of our people suffer. That if I had chosen to, I could have betrayed them all, and destroyed everything that the _Enterprise_ stands for, all because I wanted to _feel something._ ”

“Data…” Tasha scooted closer. Her hand was still on his. “That wasn’t why we were looking at you. It wasn’t what we were thinking.”

“How can you know?”

“Because I was _there_. And all I was thinking was how glad I was to see you were alive, and how scared I was to see what they had done to you.” Her fingers came up, ghosting across his cheek, and then cupping it more firmly, her thumb stroking across it. “Baby, I was scared they had broken you. And it wasn’t because I was scared _of_ you. It was because I know what that’s like, to have someone get under your skin and stay there. I was scared that what they had done had changed you, had hurt you in ways you might not come back from.”

Data swallowed. “I am still scared, Tasha.” He turned his cheek further into her hand and closed his eyes. “What they did…what she did…it did change me. And that frightens me.” He took her wrist gently and lowered it. “I touch you now and it feels…empty. And I do not know why.”

“You think it’s because I can’t give you as much. That I can’t make you feel like she could.”

“I do not know.”

Tasha covered his hand with her own. “You want to know what I think?”

He nodded.

“I think it’s because you feel guilty.” She tilted her head. “I think you hate knowing that you liked it, because you can’t make that thought match with knowing that you didn’t want it either. And I think you’ve been trying to use sex to make up for it. Because if you can make me feel good, maybe it’ll make up for the fact that you feel like you betrayed everything, including me.”

“It is…” Data swallowed. “An interesting theory.” He didn’t know if it was an accurate one, but there was merit to the idea. More merit, anyway, than the thought that lurked at the back of his mind. The thought that maybe his reasons for the sex had been a lot less generous than she believed.

Tasha shrugged. “I’m no counselor. But I know a thing or two about guilt.” And that was indisputable.

They were quiet for a minute. Then Tasha murmured, “It’s clear this is all still really wrapped up inside you.”

“I am not equipped to process this kind of information.”

“I don’t think any of us are really _equipped_ to process trauma,” Tasha said. “It’s something we have to figure out when it happens.” She touched his arm, stroking the backs of her fingers over the skin. It did not feel the same, but the sensation relaxed Data, and that was something. “Did talking about it help at all?”

“I…do not know. I would like to believe so.” It had unraveled some strings, if nothing else. It didn’t feel quite so twisted.

“I’m glad you told me.” She smiled softly. “I’m not a counselor. I can’t tell you what everything means, or how to sleep again at night. But I am here for you.”

“Even though I betrayed you?”

“You didn’t betray me,” Tasha said. Her voice was resolute. “I won’t say I’m not upset, because I am. But that’s my problem to deal with, not yours. And we’re going to get through this, okay? Together.”

Something in Data’s chest gave way, just a little. “I would like that.”

“So would I.” Tasha squeezed his arm one last time and let go. “No more shutting me out, deal?”

“I will try.”

She accepted it with a nod. “That’s the first step.”

“The first step?”

“To fixing this. To moving on.”

He did not feel fixed. The guilt was still there, gnawing at him and filling his stomach like a dark pit, dragging him down. But…it did not feel quite so overwhelming anymore. He felt…hope. He would speak to Counselor Troi. With time, he would recover. Things might not go back to normal. In fact, it was highly unlikely they ever would. But, as Tasha said, they would go on.

“Tasha?” he said softly.

“Yeah, baby?”

“You do stimulate me properly. Both with and without the sexual connotations.”

She couldn’t have understood the source of the statement, but it didn’t matter. It broke the tension. She let out a laugh and flicked a bit of whipped cream onto his nose. Data blinked, reaching to wipe it off, but Tasha was already crawling closer to him, licking it away and then pressing a kiss to the spot. She rested her forehead against his. “The feeling is mutual, Data.” It could have been a sexual pose, but it was not. It was closeness, pure and simple. And it was what Data had needed to hear.

Perhaps Data was just designed to mimic human behavior, or perhaps there was some truth to the Borg queen’s taunts. He had been tempted. But it was in human nature to be tempted, just as it was in his nature to continue to evolve. To become, despite falters and enticements, the best version of himself that he could achieve. It was not perfection. But it was human. And Data would take it. Guilt and pain and all.


End file.
